


Love me like there's no tomorrow

by Fafsernir



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Crowley watches 'love me like there's no tomorrow', Fluff, Freddie Mercury (mentioned) - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 06:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20719616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fafsernir/pseuds/Fafsernir
Summary: Crowley was on his phone when he saw the video. His heart was beating so fast and painfully in his chest and his fingers were trembling as he clicked on it. The music played, and his heart shattered in his chest.





	Love me like there's no tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get the song and the video out of my mind and I cried a bit too much about it, so I thought, hey, why not?!
> 
> Please watch the [beautiful Freddie Mercury song (and especially the video) first.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H1Wbu_AF2e4)  


Crowley tried to fight back the emotions, but the first piano note was enough for him to tear up. Why now? He knew why, of course, the date had never changed. But still, why was it released now?

Crowley tried not to think, he tried to only watch. He tried to focus on the voice, on the music, on the video. His mind couldn’t help but think of Aziraphale, of hands they had extended to the other, of slow dances they had shared, of hugs they had exchanged, of Heaven coming between them, in the form of Gabriel or in the form of doubts creeping inside Aziraphale’s mind. It wasn’t because it was over that Crowley never thought about it.

He thought about love, about his love for Aziraphale, about Aziraphale’s love for him. 

He also thought about the young man he had seen, so many years ago. He remembered the passion he had felt, the talent he had heard. He remembered how the lyrics had always resonated with him. How he had discovered  _ Killer Queen _ and had thought the song perfect, how he had listened to  _ You’re my best friend  _ and felt it pierce through his heart, how he had heard  _ Love of my life  _ hand it had shattered his heart a little more. He also remembered smiling at the Bentley the first time she had put on  _ I’m in love with my car.  _ Everything had echoed deep inside him, especially because of when he had encountered the music.

It had followed Aziraphale’s “You go too fast for me” and Crowley had never heard anything or anyone who could put words on his life better than Queen. They had always had the right words, for some reason.

Crowley remembered meeting Freddie Mercury. He had never tempted him to anything, he hadn’t wanted to. He had simply spoken to him, just to see. To know, to understand that man who seemed to be living inside Crowley’s head, at times. He had always just been another broken soul in this cruel world.

Crowley remembered crying the first time he had heard some songs, he remembered crying after that cursed 24th of November. And decades later, he was listening to this beautiful song, thinking about Aziraphale and how they had averted the apocalypse, but also how they had almost died and how Crowley had almost lost him, how he had felt like losing him. He was thinking about the young man, too passionate at times, probably too careless for his own good, at least for his own time.

He smiled, but he also cried, letting the tears flow, letting them blur his sight, letting them drop on the phone he was squeezing between his hands as he sniffed.

He gasped when arms appeared on his waist, around him, trapping him in a light embrace as the music faded away. He let his phone drop on the ground when the screen went black, not sure of what to do, of what to say.

“I mean it,” Aziraphale whispered, echoing the song. 

_ Hold me in your arms, tell me you mean it _ .

There was emotion in his voice, and Crowley barely held back a sob, clenching his hands on Aziraphale’s covered arms.

Aziraphale moved a bit, half-circling around Crowley. Crowley met him halfway, half-turning towards him, and his head instantly found the comfort of his angel’s warm body. He rested his forehead against Aziraphale’s shoulder and tried not to feel ashamed at how much the video had just hit close to home, how much the video had reached inside Crowley’s chest and ripped his heart.

He sobbed against Aziraphale’s shoulder, his hands clasping the shirt at the back, and maybe Aziraphale’s skin as well.

He stayed a long time in his arms, letting the sorrow wash over him, letting the tears flow, letting the memories play back in his mind. 

He felt Aziraphale cry, more than he heard him. He felt a bit less self-conscious about his own tears, as Aziraphale kissed his hair and reassuringly rubbed his back. Crowley stopped crying after a while, he stopped thinking about AIDS and the bloody years when he had seen so many die in such an unfair way. He had cried to God, had asked her more questions – why them, why now, why not help them, why, always why, still why. It had always been about understanding. Just like he had wanted to understand Freddie Mercury.

He knew Aziraphale had been affected by it too. They had never talked about it, but they both knew. They had never enjoyed unfair deaths, they had never liked that they were so powerless.

Aziraphale cupped his face and forced him to leave the warmth of his shoulder. Their eyes met naturally, and Crowley had to look away, too overwhelmed by the emotions and vulnerability in Aziraphale’s eyes. He put his hand over Aziraphale’s hand, and closed his eyes, leaning against their joined hands. Aziraphale’s free fingers ran in his hair, slowly, gently. It stopped at the back of his head and Aziraphale tugged lightly, bringing Crowley’s head down a bit to kiss his forehead, then his cheek, then his lips. They were the lightest kisses possible, lighter than a feather’s weight on his skin and lips – and Crowley would know.

He turned his head slightly, kissing Aziraphale’s palm, much like the animated character of the video.

“I love you,” Crowley whispered against the hand. 

He needed to say it, to express it again. He needed Aziraphale to know it, to be sure of it, to understand how true that statement was. He showed him his love so much, but they didn’t say it very often. The concept was human, but it still made his heart drop in his stomach whenever he heard Aziraphale say it, so he tried to say it, too. Because it was true, and because it always felt reassuring to hear the words.

“I love you too, my dear,” Aziraphale said.

They kissed in silence, softly, calmly. With a love so appeasing that it chased Crowley’s thoughts away.

Aziraphale loved him like there was no tomorrow. 


End file.
